Broken Toy

Warnings:Language and a little bit of smut
Author's Notes:Post-Hogwarts, Harry has grown up and celebrates his birthday. At the end of his birthday party, he receives a shock instead of nice presents...

Enjoy!!!

ETA: Beta'ed by ravenqueen55!

Chapter one

“Hel-LO? Are you there?”

Harry Potter felt his shoulder being nudged hard by the knuckles of a fist. Instantly on the alert, he grabbed for his wand and pointed it straight at Seamus Finnegan’s flushed face.

Seamus?

Realizing what he was doing, Harry quickly put his wand back into the hip-pocket of his jeans and reached for the mug of beer sitting in front of him. Damn. Again, he was caught daydreaming.

After taking a deep sip, ignoring the roaring laughter around him, he lifted an eyebrow and looked around questioningly. “So what?” he asked, concealing his self-consciousness behind a big smile. He let his eyes wander across the faces around the table.

Everybody was smirking at him. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, Seamus, Dean and Neville. Shit, he shouldn’t have allowed himself to let his mind wander off like that. Not in public, anyway. They had all gathered together to celebrate his twenty-fifth birthday; he had actually invited them to meet here at the Leaky Cauldron, so he had at least to display the decency to entertain his guests! Just pull yourself together, man, he told himself firmly and repeated as calmly as he could possibly manage, ignoring his head twitching nervously to the side just once. “So what?”

Seamus’s hand descended on his shoulder with such a force that it made Harry wince inwardly. He surveyed his friend’s face closely. Yes, Seamus definitely had had one beer too many. His face showed the certain tinge of red due to alcohol and there were tiny droplets of sweat visible on his forehead.

“We were just wondering, mate, why you didn’t join in on the joke!”

Joke? What joke? Hell, what had he missed? His face blank, Harry repeated what he was thinking loudly; his mind couldn’t think up anything else this fast. “Joke?”

At once, the whole table roared with laughter again. Wishing he were somewhere else, Harry restrained himself from scratching his neck nervously. Instead, he just shrugged his shoulders casually.

“Ah, man, the joke has put on at least eight legs by now and already hurried around the corner,” George put in.

“But it’s nice to have your attention back!” Fred added with an evil glint in his eyes. Another wave of laughter shook the table.

Of course. The joke was always on him. Smiling good-naturedly and avoiding Hermione’s eyes (she was staring hard at him), Harry pulled himself together and in no time was able to kid around with his friends. There was no need for explanations, no need to spoil the boisterous atmosphere of the evening.

Several beers later, Ron and Hermione got up to leave; the couple didn’t want to be separated from their baby twins this long. After hugging both of them tightly, Harry turned around and was confronted by a beautiful redhead with a determined expression on her face. Ginny.

Through blurred vision due to too much beer, her pleading face seemed pathetic. Harry swayed slightly, desperately groping for the right words, words that wouldn’t hurt her.

She smiled warmly at him and after caressing his face gently with her lovely brown eyes, pulled him into a tight embrace. Harry was conscious of her firm breasts touching his chest, her warm loin pressing into his abdomen. Without words, she promised him a special birthday present and, just for a moment, Harry was tempted. But when Ginny pulled his head down to her face with both of her hands and forced a deep kiss upon him, he knew for sure that this wasn’t what he wanted tonight.

He was feeling exhilarated, ready for some action. Some real action! Not some slow and tender love-making. He enjoyed this, too; there were times when he wished he had more of this…

But not tonight.

Tonight he needed something dirty. He needed some new experience, something he had never done before, something that would make him blush violently thinking about it tomorrow.

But something like this he would never be able to share with Ginny. Not with his sensitive, always-available, always-willing-to-please Ginny.

So Harry wriggled out of Ginny’s tight embrace, gently but firmly, forcing her arms cautiously down to her sides. Ignoring her hurt expression, he whispered softly, “It has been great to have you around this evening. Really. I appreciate it... I always do… You know that I love you...” He gently cupped her face with one hand, compelling himself to ignore the disappointment in her expressive hazelnut eyes. He added slowly, “But, I’m sorry… Nothing has changed…”

He saw her eyes widen in despair. When her lips opened to start an argument, Harry kissed her quivering lips lightly, hoping the girl wouldn’t break into tears the minute he let go of her. He tried again to make her see reason, but was convinced anything he said now was a waste of breath. He tried anyway.

“I’m sorry. I know that I've told you this thousands of times by now. But I can’t…” His voice trailed away.

Harry retreated hastily and repeated himself more resolutely now. “I just can’t, I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you need; what you deserve. Please, Ginny, love, please try to move on. It’s no good to focus all your thoughts upon me. All those years…I’m not worth it. I’m done. I’m…Since I…” He still wasn’t able to talk about it freely, damn it, but he forced himself to go on. “…since I killed Voldemort, Bellatrix and…Snape, I’m not the same. We all knew it was inevitable, the killing and all. It was expected of me. And I had tried to accept it. That I had to do it. And that I finally did it. You know I tried.”

Shit, he was getting incoherent now. This wouldn’t do.

His eyes were searching hers for confirmation, for some sign of understanding. Perceiving nothing but sorrow in those brown eyes, something in Harry went cold and ignoring the turmoil of emotion his friend was in, he continued nonetheless.

“But I can’t! My brain simply can’t adapt to the thought of me being a murderer…” He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “When I killed, something inside of me died right along with it. But I told you about this so many times I stopped counting.”

Harry shook his head and whilst turning around abruptly and taking his seat amongst his friends again, he added, more to himself than to Ginny, “I just can’t feel anything anymore… I just can’t…”

Harry never noticed Ginny stumbling out of the pub with a strangled cry. When he was seated again, he at once swallowed the last of his remaining beer and ordered a new round.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So what now?” Seamus asked enthusiastically once Harry had been forced to pay for the high bill by an irritated bartender, wishing for his last remaining guests to be gone for good so that he could close up for the night.

Dean and Neville were long gone, and only Seamus, the twins, and Harry were left. All of them were leaning with their elbows on the wooden table heavily for support; not one of them sober.

Harry didn’t have to think twice.

“Let’s just go…” He stood up abruptly, a bit too fast, he noticed, when he found himself swaying to and fro. He took hold of the table to steady himself and ordered with a slightly slurred voice, “Let’s go out to … Knockturn Alley or … somewhere abouts…”

With Harry in the lead, his friends followed him readily. Yeah. Going somewhere abouts in Knockturn Alley….Better to Laydown Alley, a little side street, or even better, to the Restricted Corner.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The four of them were slowly staggering down dimly-lit Laydown Alley. After having consumed a huge amount of beer, not one of the friends seemed to be able to walk straight any more. And there was so much to be seen…

If anyone wanted sex without bothering to get acquainted first, and if there was some ready money (a lot of in fact), this place was famous in the wizarding world, at least amongst the male population. Here, every wizard was able to satisfy any sexual taste imaginable.

Witches of all ages, sizes, and flesh colours were crowding the Alley, either standing together in small groups, or leaning by themselves against the brick walls of the buildings, which were painted in various cheerful colours. The diffused light in the Alley sometimes made it hard to distinguish different hair colours, but a bright blond, flaming red, or jet black always could be made out. As could the bodies of the whores. For none of them wore more than what seemed like rags, to display as much skin as possible. The material of the scraps nonetheless consisted of exquisite material; there wasn’t anything cheap to be found in Laydown Alley.

There likewise wasn’t an unattractive face to be made out. Each whore was simply beautiful: no wrinkle, no pimple, skin as smooth as satin, no matter how old the witch was and what experiences she may have gone through. They all seemed to be outstandingly beautiful.

Although the four friends had entered the Alley as a group, suddenly every one of them was acting as if he were on his own. Not caring about what the others were up to, Harry hungrily scrutinized every female arse he could lay his eyes upon. But surprisingly, no firm little bum he laid his drunken gaze upon was able to arouse him tonight. Strange.

He had wanted something dirty desperately. He almost hadn’t been able to follow his friend’s jokes at the bar because his excited mind had been constantly swirling around what he would like to do with his cock tonight. And now?

Nothing.

Why???

He was used to coming down to Laydown Alley to find some relief every now and then. And every time he had been here before on his own, he hadn’t had any problems. And now he didn’t feel anything at all? No excitement, no arousal, nothing at all? Was it because he was in company tonight?

He shook his head in annoyance. Bullshit. He had been lecherous beyond his wits this evening and had been more than eager to come here. He hadn’t given a shit about his friends coming along at all. Obviously they were used to a fuck around these quarters, too. So what? He shook his head again, this time more frustrated.

But although he stared hard at all kinds of tits and arses, willing himself to feel a certain tickle in his groin, his cock remained just a satisfied little half-mast in his jeans, not to be disturbed out of its cosy disposition.

Feeling highly irritated, he heard Seamus’s shout.

”Bah, but this is boring…Let’s just move towards the Restricted Corner!”

The twins nodded their heads in agreement at once, but Harry stopped in his pace and repeated questionably, having difficulty expressing himself. “Restricted…Corner?” He didn’t understand anything at all.

Seamus patted his shoulder in a patronizing way. “That’s where all the gays are…Never tried one before?”

Harry blinked rapidly. The shock he perceived taking in his friend's words never really reached his brain. “What?”

“Ah, come on, Harry!” Seamus roared with laughter, the twins chuckling along.

“Don’t tell me, Harry, that you have never tried one before!” George smirked. “A nice tight arse – tighter than a woman’s? Don’t you know how hot that can be?”

Harry was still standing unmoving in the Alley. He couldn’t make out what he didn’t like about all this – the talk about fucking a man’s arse or the way it was being talked about. Involuntarily, he retched. And felt the arms of the twins encircling him, one on each side. George lay his arms around Harry’s shoulders; Fred put his arm around his waist. They were partially supporting him, partially forcing him gently, but firmly, to move on.

“Come on, Harry, don’t be a prat.”

“Yeah, that’s right, just keep on moving your feet forward; that’s right!”

“C’mon Harry. That’s fine!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His mind still blurred due to the amount of alcohol he was unaccustomed to, Harry felt like he was being led into a dream.

All of a sudden, the friends entered surroundings which seemed like the world Harry had known turned upside down.

Everywhere Harry looked, boys and men leisurely stood along a narrow lane, either in groups or by themselves, more or less clothed, most of them of exceptional beauty.

The paint of the buildings was in bright colours; the light was slightly diffused so that not every detail could be perceived. But Harry could make out bright blond hair, even flaming red and jet black hair. Even bald heads.

It was exactly like Laydown Alley.

Nonsense, it wasn’t like it at all.

Instead of women displaying their bodies, Harry could only see male flesh displayed wherever he set his amazed gaze. His eyes scrutinized tight male arses and strong muscular chests instead of soft female ones.

Slowly, his brain was able to register that he was somewhere he had never been before.

The Restricted Corner. Why had he never heard of it before?

Harry felt awkward here, out of place. He blushed furiously when he met the eyes of a man who was rocking his hips in Harry’s direction. His blush increased even more violently when he noticed that the man wasn’t wearing any trousers. In fact, this man wasn’t wearing anything at all! Not anything that could be called clothes anyway. Harry could only make out some tiny black leather strips encircling the man’s torso. And his exposed, fully erect penis was dangling directly toward him.

Harry couldn’t help staring at the huge stiff prick of the man, feeling his own member springing to life at once. Hypnotized by the sight, he felt slightly annoyed when George was leading him purposefully forward, muttering, “Forget about him. He’s just a show-off. Fred and I tried him once.” He let out a humourless bark, and Fred continued. “As soon as you get his big dick up your arse, it shrinks down into nothingness. Nothing usable, this is. Not worth your money!”

Although he wanted to stay, Harry felt himself being led further down the dark, narrow alley. He couldn’t get the guy with his dancing erection out of his mind. Directly pointing at him! This really had been – honestly!

His prick was throbbing painfully in his now too tight jeans. The huge penis of the guy he had seen still dancing before his mind's eye, he couldn't help but make a quick thrust of his hips. With a stupid little grin, he acknowledged that he had wet himself. No complaints anymore about not being aroused. He couldn’t help grinning.

Until his stomach did something like a somersault, making himself feel seriously sick.

Words he had perceived lately were dancing around in his head, increasing the uncomfortable feeling of dizziness.

“…nice tight arse…” – “…big dick….” - “…tighter than a woman’s…” – “…not worth your money…”"…tried him just once…” – “nice tight arse…”- “not worth your money…”

Harry definitely felt sick.

Sweat poured down his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin like glue. He was all too conscious of the section of his body his stomach was supposed to occupy. The thing that felt like a balloon inside his belly was increasing to an uncomfortable size. It seemed like he had washed down at least four loaves of bread whole with forty pints of beer. Thankfully, his member had stopped pulsing, but nevertheless was decidedly stiff.

Moving on became a hard task. His legs turned wobbly and his feet didn’t seem to be able to obey such simple commands as putting one foot in front of the other. He had drunk too much. He definitely had drunk far too much. Just another word of the twins, any word, and he would have to puke right in front of their shoes.

His head had sunk down almost to his chest, lolling slightly from side to side with every step he had to take. When he closed his eyes in resignation, he opened them up at once again. This hadn’t been a good idea. He didn’t want to top his dizziness with nausea.

Harry was grateful when the twins stopped finally dragging him along. A rest.

Thankfully, Harry heaved a deep sigh which had been locked deep in his lungs. His eyes still closed with his chin buried on his chest, he tried another deep breath. Yeah. It worked.

He just had to keep control. Get his senses back. Ignore all the swaying, and be determined to ignore the dizziness in his head. He had to be in control of his senses again.

At last, he was able to lift his head, albeit slowly.

Harry’s numb eyes were desperately searching for a point where they could take a rest. Just to focus upon something, get some hold to gather his wits up again. Who he was, what he had intended to do and why the hell he was here.

If he was able to manage this, everything was just all right…When he was once master of himself again.

And then he would leave.

As soon as possible.

And think about all he had seen and felt tonight and judge it tomorrow.

He wouldn’t condemn the twins or Seamus, he couldn’t condemn them. All of them were drunk and not responsible for what they did or what expressions they used.

Yes. Harry nodded his head in agreement. This was very sensible, this what he was thinking about… He would do it at once.

Now what had it been?

Harry had to shake his head violently in order to remember the last two or three flashes of inspiration that went through his brain, registering gratefully that the action of his head hadn’t caused any damage to his stomach. With a last effort, he tried to come to his senses.

He was Harry Potter, and his efficiency was legendary. As was his willpower. So?

Shaking his head once more, this time more cautiously, he felt his senses returning. He was in control yet again. Not completely, but at least he was able to register his surroundings.

The four friends stood aimlessly in front of a building being painted in bright rainbow colours. On the right and left there were other buildings to be seen, painted in the same rainbow colours.

So they had reached the corner. The Restricted Corner, Harry corrected himself. He let his weary eyes wander about the various boys and men exhibiting themselves.

Nothing new, he told himself numbly. Just a little bit more crowded than the narrow pathway before. More men standing there more or less dressed, some of them just wearing tiny leather straps which showed off more of their flesh than they covered. Harry let his eyes wander about, and his drunken mind conceived more naked round arses than he had ever seen before.

He still felt sick.

Whilst he tried to swallow down the urge to puke, he froze. And stared hard.

This long silvery-blond hair, floating in the night’s breeze.

If he hadn’t known better, Harry would have been sure he was watching Lucius Malfoy right in front of him, leaning on this ridiculous rainbow coloured wall.

The man had cast his head down, so Harry couldn’t see his face. His figure – no, it was all too slim. This couldn’t be Lucius. He was dead, after all. Killed off by Arthur Weasley in the last war. Harry himself had witnessed it.

Feeling sober all of a sudden, Harry’s eyes widened.

The tall man he was fixing slowly lifted his head.

Empty grey eyes met his own.

A shiver ran down Harry’s spine. He had been mistaken. Terribly mistaken.

It wasn’t Lucius Malfoy.

It was Draco.

Draco Malfoy.